December Skyline
by Katieelessar
Summary: It’s Roger and Mark’s first anniversary as a couple. When Roger forgets, they can’t decide on anything and a snowstorm moves in, how will the special day go? Fluffy fun. MR.
1. No Broadway

_Summary: It's Roger and Mark's first anniversary as a couple. When Roger forgets, they can't decide on anything and a snowstorm moves in, how will the special day go? M/R._

_A/N: Oh this is just shameless fun with my two favorite characters. Slash obviously. I just love them together, don't you? Probably won't be longer than a few chaps. So here you have it, mindless fluff with some plot but mostly, fluff. Please read and review!_

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**Chapter One: No Broadway**

"Roger."

"Hmm?"

"You know I love you…"

"Hmm?"

"But…"

"_Hmm_?"

"You're being terribly boring today."

Roger looked up from the faded article he had been reading in the Village Voice to see Mark lying on their couch, feet dangling into the air while his head slipped over the edge to the floor. It was amazing that the couch could even hold his weight like that, so battered and flimsy as it was. They needed a new one.

_Hell, they needed a new everything_, Roger thought, ignoring Mark's pout and sipping their cheap coffee…especially new coffee.

"I love you too," he finally said, absently as he scanned an article reviewing the local tourist spots. Everything from the most eclectic restaurants in Greenwich to eat to the cheapest cruise around the Bay. Roger scoffed and flipped the page. _Yeah, if you consider 'cheap' at $20 a ticket._

"Rog?"

"Yes, Pookie?" He looked up smirking to see Mark roll his eyes.

"Shut up. I was going to ask you a question for real this time."

Though he hardly believed it, Roger looked up, folding up the newspaper and drained his coffee cup before staring directly into the upside-down blue eyes. "I'm listening."

Mark pulled himself up slightly on the couch, withblueeyes curiously dancing. "You know what tomorrow is?"

"Uhh...the day before Christmas Eve."

"And…?"

"Umm…Friday?" Mark scoffed but replaced it with a smile….no that was just a frown. Roger liked Mark upside-down when he was angry. He didn't have to face that terrible glare for what it was.

But he still couldn't remember. Oh, was it their--

"Wedding? Guess again, Davis."

"Your birthday?" Roger's grin faded as he finally remembered. _Holy, shit!_

It was their anniversary. Their one-year anniversary as a couple. Well in fact, it was oneyearago today that they finally came out and told everyone.Maureenhas designated it as their _real_ anniversary day becauseNovember4th didn't have the same'ring to it.'

_Wow_, he amazed silently, wondering which was more incredible; the fact that time had flown by so quickly or that he had so irrefutably forgotten?

It was the latter.

"Of course I know what tomorrow is," he said with a fake smile. _Shit_. Mark returned the action and fell back down into his original position.

"What do you want to do?" He asked. Roger shrugged. Honestly, if he had remembered, he probably would not have thought of anything too elaborate. They had little extra money—and by extra, he meant for some 1 bottle of beer and cigarettes—and Alphabet City did not exactly offer anything too…fundamental for these types of days. Roger assumed they would sleep in late and stay in bed all day. His lips curved into a painful smile. Mark deserved better.

"What did _you_ want to do?" Mark shrugged.

"What ever you want to do, Roger."

"Well I'll do whatever you want to do." Mark rolled his eyes.

"This isn't getting anywhere."

Roger smiled and rose from the table to rinse his empty mug in the sink. Water…that's all he had to give Mark, he thought bitterly. Water, no food, his shit-worth junk and a guitar. It wasn't that he was unhappy with the way they lived. They made each other happy and it always seemed to be enough, but Roger always felt that Mark deserved more than this. He deserved real silverware and a real editing system for his film and real, finely polished cases for the rolls of film he added everyday. He deserved new sheets and clean carpets and full shampoo bottles because Roger always ended up using the remains.

He sighed, scrubbing the cracked porcelain longer than he should. All the things they wanted but couldn't have. _The sacrifices we make to live our dreams..._

"Hey, I think you've cleaned that thing good enough."

He started at Mark's voice directly in his ear, staring down to see a slightly more cracked mug than before. Cursing at his inattention, he dried it and placed it back on the counter before facing a slightly bemused Mark in front of him.

"How do you do that?"

"What?"

"How can you sneak up on me like that? The floor creaks louder than those damn snowstorms."

Mark smiled, wrapping his arms loosely around Roger's shoulders and rubbing gently to sooth the rapid heart rate. "Practice."

"Right." Roger's eyes fluttered closed as Mark's firm hands moved from his arms to massaging his shoulders and his neck.

"You're tense," Mark observed, adding gentle pressure to the tangles of knots in Roger's neck as he titled his head forward.

"Mmm, don't stop."

"Is something bothering you?"

He began to shake his head but Mark's hands kept him still. "No. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Roger sighed, not out of relief this time and looked up into Mark's questioning gaze. _Was it really that obvious that he was already stressed about their day tomorrow?_ He was never good at keeping his emotions at bay, but damn, Mark could read him like an open book from a mile away.

"Mark, really, I'm fine. Now please…"

Roger sighed inwardly as Mark pressed his lips together and nodded tightly. He knew he would explain and make it up later but for now, he didn't want to let his stupid forgetfulness show.

He noted sadly that Mark had stopped with his hands and was walking away to retire back on his spot on the couch, though sitting upright this time. A few moments of neutral silence filled the room before Roger asked:

"Mark, what _would_ you like to do tomorrow?" There, he might get a better answer from that and from watching Mark's pondering face, he was right.

"I want to go somewhere," he finally said. "I want to go somewhere besides the loft or the Life or Joanne and Maureen's house. I would like to go somewhere else around the city."

Roger joined him on the couch, sinking heavily onto the couch, humming in agreement. A walk around the city for once--never mind the cold weather--sounded appealing to him.

"Any places in particular?"

Roger bit back a sigh in irritation as Mark shook his head and shrugged. "Not really. Do you?"

"We could always go over to Central Park…and play in the fountains like old times," he added with a playful smile. Mark chuckled. How could they ever forget those times? They had only done it twice—once when Angel was still with them—when they had gotten drunk off their asses. Roger still remembered that day like yesterday. After a few hours of jumping around and splashing each other with the water, slipping a few coins here or there in their pockets, officers had come and literally chased them away. He laughed. Angel lost her wig that day…

"We could…" Mark mused, thinking of the same memory. "But it's kind of...um, cold for that right now."

"Aww, will my Marky get too cold to walk home in the dark?" Roger teased but he knew it would be risky for them to walk home in the dark, wet, and with temperatures well below human standards. With the thought of the weather, he remembered how frigid it was in their loft already and wrapped his arms tighter around him. _Maybe not a good idea…_

" 'What I was thinking," Mark said, noting the action. They sat in silence, skimming over their choices.

"The theater?"

"And see what?"

Mark shrugged. "You're the one who was reading the paper today."

"Yeah, about a week old too. Plus it's December. Nothing good comes out this month…how about… Broadway?"

Mark laughed and pushed him away playfully. "First of all, Roger Davis, you hate musicals—"

"I do not! Some of them are just plain boring. I mean, Phantom of the Opera---"

"What about it? You're just jealous because you want to be on that stage." Mark shook his head as Roger pouted. "And especially of the phantom."

"What? I do not hide my face behind some stupid mask and sing cutesy love songs to some chorus girl!"

"I'm just teasing, Rog," Mark said softly, placing his arms around Roger and kissing him gently on the lips. "You definitely do not wear a mask."

"And you're definitely not a chorus girl." Roger returned the kiss, lingering a little longer than the first one. "Although…"

"No!" Mark pushed away from him, laughing even as Roger pulled him back to him. "Don't even go there Roger Davis!" He laughed again as Roger tickled his sides and buried his face in Mark's neck. "Rog—Roger! Y-you know I'm ticklish there!"

"Is that a problem?" came Roger's muffled voice as he began to plant heavy kisses on his neck while still moving his fingers up and down Mark's ribcage. Mark squirmed in his grip, trying to keep his head down from Roger's tickling mouth even while it flew back from laughing so hard.

Roger managed to pull him flat on his back, straddling his waist before he gave mercy. They were both panting hard, Roger was still laughing as Mark tried to regain his breath, sweat beaded his brow.

"Truce. Truce Roger, please!" Roger chuckled and leaned back so that he was staring down at the heaving filmmaker.

"Did I make my point?" He asked, ready to resume his actions. Mark's eyes flew up as he stumbled to speak. "What was that?"

"Y-yes!" He managed and said a few breathes later. "Quite clearly. You will never be like the phantom and we definitely will not waste our money on seeing him sing to a chorus girl."

"Good."

"Now can I get up? I have to use the bathroom."

Roger laughed but slid off Mark and the couch, while helping him up. The filmmaker's hair stood out in bizarre angles with clothes equally ruffled. With pink tinting his cheeks, Roger thought he looked oddly cute. No…cute didn't quite fit…damn adorable and the longer he stared, the brighter those cheeks got.

"What?" Mark asked with a puzzled look but Roger merelyshook his head, smiling.

"Oh, it's nothing. Go have a party in the bathroom…and fix that hair of yours." He snickered as Mark flipped him off and made a beeline for the door.

Roger breathed out in half giddiness, half relief. Now he could finally put some frantic plan together before…well before anymore Mark-revolved distractions. He got up to retrieve the paper from the table and scanned through it to look at the movie times. As he assumed, only a few chick-flicks and kids movies were playing. He sighed in frustration and put it down, flipping to the next page.

"Hey Roger?"

He looked up to see that Mark was still hovering in the threshold of the bathroom, staring at him with an odd smile.

No, a teasing smile.

"What…?" He asked warily as Mark's smile expanded to his ears.

"You don't look like the phantom but you both sing damn good love songs. Ones that even make…the choir boys swoon."

"Alright that's it!" Roger grabbed the paper and charged at the laughing figure who could hardly find his footing and slam the door before Roger jumped him. The lock clicked before Roger could get a hand on the knob.

"Mark! God dammit, you are so fuckin' dead!"

Roaring laughter only met his ears and turned away with a huff.

_Stupid Mark…thinks I'm like some sleazy wannabe…pfff.._

"At least I can sing better than him!" He shouted through the door and began to walk away from the terrible noise before something caught his eye on the ground. _Oh yes_, it was the paper he had planned to hit Mark with. The pages lay spread open about the space, crumbled like Roger's pride.

Still muttering to himself, he bent over to pick up the fallen pieces when one page caught his eye. He picked it up, quickly scanning the article with his scowl quickly turning into a secret smile. _Ah-ha_.

Here was the answer. Lying right in front of him the whole time! He quickly folded the piece of paper and stuffed it into the pocket of his jacket, a smile still decorating his face. Wouldn't Mark be surprised?

TBC….

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A/N: Hmm…so what does Roger have up his sleeve? Any guesses? Shh, I'm not saying a word. Oh yes, and I do not have anything against The Phantom of the Opera. I love it to death almost as much as Rent. :) I hope you liked. Please leave a review if you'd like to read more! Thanks! 


	2. Christmas Eve's Eve

A/N: A million thanks to all my reviewers! I was dancing with joy when I saw all your wonderful reviews. They really made my day! Thank you so much! Enjoy the next chapt!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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**Chapter Two: Christmas Eve's Eve**

Mark awoke to the sound of silence the following morning.

Silence and white.

His eyebrows rose even before his eyelids, wondering why the bed felt so unreasonably cold. His hand soon followed his eyes when he realized that Roger was oddly absent from the warm blankets of their bed.

_That explained the silence,_ he thought as he groped the air for his glasses on the stool he used as a table next to his bed. _But why was there so much white? And why was Roger…ah, that's better…awake at…9 am already?_

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he took a quick look out the small window in his room. Pale white light streamed through the tattered curtains, erasing the room of color until only a watery color remained.

_Another snow_, he thought miserably, now taking extra care to not let any warmth escape through the seams of his blankets. It would probably be the warmest he would get today and not having Roger anywhere nearby seemed to make it colder.

"Roger?" His voice was hoarse from sleep. He coughed. "Roger?"

There was no answer. Silence filled the loft as aggressive as the snow's light. Sighing, Mark flipped out of bed; keeping one blanket firmly wrapped around his body as he made his way across the cold wood into the living room.

"Roger? Are you here?" Nope. Just a missing leather jacket and empty coffee cup on the table gave him the answer he needed. _Damn him_, he thought casting a worried glance outside to the white city. _He's a fuckin' idiot to go out in this cold. Especially today. I swear, I'll kill him before the snow does if he doesn't come back._

Heaving a great, foggy sigh, Mark wandered over to the coffee pot to heat up the dregs of Roger's coffee, thankful to see a good amount still left. As he reached onto the cabinet, he noticed a yellow post-it note sticking on the rim. His heart immediately warmed as pulled a note that had been sloppily placed.

_6 AM Eastern Standard Time_

_My Swooning Choir Boy—_

_I went out so don't go crazy on me when I come home. I'll be back as soon as I can. _

Mark's eyebrows shot up. Six o'clock? In the _morning_? Was Roger even aware that there was such a time in the world? His lips curved into a smile as he read the last line.

_I'm looking forward to today._

_Love,_

_Roger._

Still grinning, Mark folded the letter and placed it on the counter, just about to pour the warmed coffee into his kettle when he realized—wait!

He frantically unfolded the note to check the time again. **_6 am?_** That means he had been gone for 3 hours already. He glanced out the window and then to the door as if expecting Roger to come in at any moment. The knob did not move. He said he would be home soon…

_Okay breathe, Mark, he _told himself sternly. He's probably on his way home right with what ever the hell he got and the snow slowed him down. It's hard walking through the snow. It's happens all the time, right?

Yet, Mark was not reassured at all. He went over to the window, wiping away some condensation and peered up and down the road but all he could see was white. White, white, _white_. On the railing, on the balcony, on the street, on top of cars, hell, even in the cracks of the window; it was everywhere along with that biting cold.

_I'll give him time_, he thought. A few minutes and he'll be waltzing through that door with a silly smile saying I worry too much for my health and then life will go on…

To busy himself meanwhile he would make some coffee, scavenger for some firewood, take out Roger's gift from his hidden spot…even though he had a strong inkling that Roger had not even looked for it because he had probably forgotten that it was their day. He rolled his eyes. _Typical Roger._

**1 Hour Later**

_Okay, this is just fuckin' mad._

Mark coiled his old stripped scarf around his neck one last time, pulling on the ends to wrap in every last bit of warmth he could. He wore every warm shirt he had along with one of Roger's large coats that had a lighter and a pack of cigarettes in the pockets. He took the pack out and threw it in the trashcan.

"Sorry, Roger," he said grimly. "But you should hide these things better if you don't want me finding them."

He kept the lighter for safety. The power might go out again as it had been all winter and they would be doomed without any light from candles against the long nights.

He went to scribble down a note on the other side of Roger's when a sharp knock at the door made him start and nearly crack the pencil in half. _Roger_?

Nearly flying to the door, he flung it open but only to meet the smiling face of a rather cold Mimi. His heart fell but he returned the smile, beckoning her in with a gloved hand.

"Hi, Mark," she said in a tone too bright for this kind of weather but infectious nonetheless "Merry Christmas eve Eve!"

"Same to you," he answered with a half-hearted chuckle, looking down at a brown bag she held in her thin hands. She looked just as cold as he did. "What's in the bag?"

She walked in, heels clicking a steady rhythm on the wood floor and placed the bag on their ancient metal table. Her large chocolate eyes gazed around the loft curiously. "Is Roger here?"

"No," Mark answered as his heart sank lower. "He went out but I was about to go out to look for him."

"He's out _there_?" Mimi asked, eyes now wide with worry as she looked outside. "What the fuck is he thinking? It's gotta be below zero by now!"

"I know, I know, I know." Mark ran a shaky hand through his hair. "That's why I have to go out and find him."

"Oh, no way, Mark. You are not going out there. You're freezing in here even now." She strode over to him and placed an icy hand on his skin. He winced and flew back from her touch. She nodded deeply. "See, my hands are freezing and your face feels even colder than them."

"Mimi, what about Roger? What if something happened to him and he can't get home?" He paused and added softly. "What if he gets sick?"

Mimi sighed and nodded solemnly. Ever since she and Roger had broken up a year and a half ago, they remained good friends; Roger acted like the older, protective brother of Mimi who likewise became his loyal younger sister. The three of them had grown into their roles over the past year and remained as tightly as ever. Mark knew he could depend on Mimi with anything. She had been off the drugs for nearly half a year.

"When did he leave?"

"About four hours ago." The corners of Mimi's lips lifted slightly.

"Roger doesn't wake that early often, does he?" Mark shook his head.

"That's what I thought."

"I'll help you look for him, Mark. We'll cover more distance if we separate anyways and I don't him out there anymore than you do." She smiled her eyes aglow with so much compassion and love that Mark had to smile back. Roger (and he) were lucky to have such loyal friends.

"Thanks, Mimi," he breathed as she began to walk out the door. He went to the table to grab his key when he saw Mimi's brown bag next to it. Curiosity got the better of him as he moved to peer inside.

"Wait, Mark!" Heels clicked again and a hand just as brown as the bag crumbled the top tightly. "It's a surprise for you and Roger. Don't think I forgot what today was."

Mark started, glancing up. _How…?_

"Because unlike, Roger, whom we both know completely forgot, I write things down." She chuckled and walked back to the door. "So let's find this bastard and give him a good talk, how's that?"

Mark chuckled. "Will do."

_Fuck, Roger Davis_, he thought as a gust of wind ripped through his too-thin clothes as he made his way down the soggy streets. _What I do for love._

TBC…

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A/N: I know, the evil suspense. Where in the world is Roger Davis and what is his big surprise? Heehee. I'm evil to make you wait. Don't worry, the next chapter will be about Roger so fret not, readers, there is still hope! I had to put Mimi in because I love her so much and I wanted her and Roger to still be on a good terms. :) Please leave a review! 


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